


Touch

by Inkkblots



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Nogitsune
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-05
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-10 15:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3295229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkkblots/pseuds/Inkkblots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fluffy Sterek/Teen Wolf fic, post season 3B concerning nightmares</p>
            </blockquote>





	Touch

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on Tumblr at inkkblotts.tumblr.com
> 
> Even made a playlist to go with it haha http://8tracks.com/fanmixed-fandoms/i-can-t-sleep-at-night

            Stiles woke with his legs tangled in the comforter and a cold sweat chilling his skin with a scream stuck in his throat. He sat up in his bed, staring at his hands counting and recounting his fingers, panting like he had just run a marathon. It had been weeks since the Nogitsune’s downfall, but Stiles still remembered the chaos it has left in its wake. He remembered twisting the sword stuck in Scott’s belly, and screaming ‘shoot me’ while his father looked on in horror. The nightmares still came, sometimes as vivid memories he was condemned to relive over and over. Others weren’t memories, but they weren’t exactly far off from what had actually happened. He knew they weren’t real, he knew he was himself; but they still scared him to no end.

            Once he had counted and recounted his fingers he took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his breathing and his racing heart. Stiles grabbed his phone and glared at the backlit screen for a moment to let his eyes adjust. The time on his lock screen said it was in that weird limbo of four in the morning. Surely no sane person would even dream of being awake or answering their phone. Stiles scrolled through his contacts and called someone anyway.

            That someone answered their phone on the second ring and gruffly asked Stiles if he was ok before Stiles had even said hello.

            “Yeah, I just…well you know,” Stiles ran a hand through his hair, which was currently drenched in sweat. It ran down to his neck and sent a shiver down his spine.

            “You want me to come over?”

The question from the other end of the line lingered in the air for a moment before Stiles nodded and whispered a hoarse “yeah, please.”

“I’ll be there in five.” There was a click as the lines disconnected and Stiles sat up, kicking the damp comforter off his legs. He leaned back until his head bumped against the wall. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was getting harder for him to get through the nights without calling someone. Deaton had told him that time would heal all wounds, but so far time had just made things worse. Everyone was diving into the new crisis that awaited them and moving on from what had happened. Stiles wanted to move on too, but he felt stuck behind; weighed down by the ghosts that lingered.

Stiles was contemplating getting out of bed and moving to his computer to do some research while he waited. Before he could decide to get up he heard his window sliding open. “Hey,” Stiles turned to watch Derek climb through his window, sliding it shut again once he was inside. “My dad’s got the graveyard shift tonight, you could just use the front door.”

            Derek remained silent. The usual snarky remarks between them had deteriorated recently, on Derek’s end particularly. Ever since they found out Kate was back he’d been tense, on edge.

Shortly after Kate’s return he’d asked Stiles how he handled the nightmares when they got too real. Ever since the two of them had been sharing midnight calls and texts. It was easier to open up to each other about the night terrors, leaving the rest of the pack out of the loop.

Derek was now seated at the foot of Stiles’ bed, looking at Stiles with concern etched in his features and worry in his eyes. “So what was it this time?”

“The one with Allison, where I’m the one that kills her.” Stiles is looking at his feet, refusing to meet Derek’s eyes. “Lydia was there this time, she was screaming so loud,” Stiles runs a hand over his face. Rubs at his eyes, which he knows must look red and watery.

Derek’s hand wraps around his calf, gives him a reassuring squeeze. Stiles looks up and sees that Derek is looking straight at him, it’s a bit unnerving and makes Stiles feel exposed, like a raw nerve. Stiles ends up settling his gaze somewhere behind Derek so he doesn’t actually have to look at him. “It wasn’t you. You know that wasn’t you,” Derek moves, forcing himself into Stiles’ line of site.

“I know. It’s just, what if I-“

“Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t wonder ‘what if,’ it’s a hell in and of itself and you’ll never pull yourself out of that.” Stiles finally meets Derek’s eyes, and in them he sees guilt. Derek knows how deep the hell of ‘what ifs’ goes, he’s been there for years.

Derek is still touching Stiles’ leg, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric of Stiles’ sweatpants. Stiles wonders if Derek even knows that his hand is on Stiles’ leg. One thing he’d picked up on during their late night confessionals is that when Derek is in need of comfort, he’ll tend to touch Stiles more. Even if it’s just the backs of their hands brushing there is always a contact. He wonders if it’s a wolf thing, he’d read somewhere once that wolves in the wild comfort each other through touch. That wolves will nestle close to one another in their den in a reassurance that they’re not alone.

“So, uhh, any leads on what’s going on?” Stiles shifts the subjects from their nightmares to their current nightmare like problem.

            “Nothing yet. I was reading through some books trying to find something when you called.”

            “You weren’t sleeping like every normal, sane person?”

            Derek almost smiles at that, his gaze shifting to the floor, “I’m not exactly a normal sane person Stiles; besides, I couldn’t sleep.”

            Stiles half smiles at the thought of Derek pouring over old leather bound books in the middle of the night. “When was the last time you slept?”

            “Got in a few hours last night,” Derek said, shifting from sitting at the foot of the bed to being more towards the middle. His hand that had lingered on Stiles’ leg now rested on the bed near Stiles’ own hand. Stiles could flex his fingers and they’d brush against Derek’s, the thought was tempting. Instead, Stiles shifted over, away from Derek.

            “You should at least try to sleep more,” Stiles gave the space on the bed next to him a pat, and Derek moved to sit next to him. They were now shoulder to shoulder, looking forward at the opposite wall.

            “And wake up smelling of anxiety and fear?”

            Stiles scoffed, “is that what I smell like to you?”

            “Little bit, yeah.”

            It was silent for a little while after that. It wasn’t an awkward silence, but a comfortable one. Stiles was reassured by the clam breathing of the body next to him. He could feel the warmth of Derek’s shoulder pressed against his, and he realized that he didn’t care if the touching was a wolf thing. The touching should be a Stiles thing from now on. It really was comforting just having someone touching you to ground you in the reality of, well, reality.

            Stiles was almost drifting back into sleep when Derek spoke again, “I should probably get going.”

            “No, stay,” Stiles turned his head to look at Derek at the same time Derek turned to look at him. “You need sleep, just stay. Please,” Stiles moved his hand so that the back of it rested against the back of Derek’s hand. “Just… It’s nice having someone here, it’s comforting.” Stiles wanted to tangle his fingers in Derek’s and force him to stay, but at the same time he didn’t want to let Derek know just how desperate he was to not be alone.

            Derek sighed, “Where do you expect me to sleep exactly. Your computer chair?”

            “We can share my bed.”

            “Do you expect us to spoon? Your bed is kinda small Stiles.”

            “Why not?” Stiles and Derek looked at each other for a long moment, and Stiles was afraid that Derek was just going to get up and leave. So he began lacing his fingers with Derek’s until their fingers were tangled and they were palm to palm. Holding hands felt like such a perfect fit between them to Stiles.

            Derek squeezed Stiles’ hand and gave him a faint smile. Stiles let out the breath he’d been holding and they were soon laying side by side, hands still intertwined. Stiles closed his eyes and smiled, “goodnight Derek,” he breathed.

            “Goodnight Stiles,” Derek whispered in return. They had both soon drifted off into sleep, and for the first time in weeks neither of them dreamed at all. A welcome change that led to the first restful sleep Stiles had had since before the Nogitsune had come into his life.

When they woke later into the morning, they were still holding hands. Their foreheads were resting against each other and their noses bumped as they stirred.


End file.
